


Constellate

by dasyatidae



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Het, Multi, POV First Person, POV Shifting, PWP, Pegging, it starts out serious and becomes sorta a fluff fest what can I say, sensate love, sensate smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasyatidae/pseuds/dasyatidae
Summary: Nomi and Lito lend a hand (well, some hands) as Kala pegs Wolfgang for the first time.





	Constellate

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to our All Fandom ~~August~~ September! The style of this piece was totally inspired by _Ancillary Justice_. Sorry not sorry if it’s not your jam. I’ll try to write a more straight up third person POV piece starring these darlings someday… 
> 
> Not sure if this is a relevant disclaimer, but I wrote this while I was still only a couple episodes into season 2; it’s not shaped by anything that happens later.
> 
> kenopsia was hella awesome and read this over for me! <3!

 

 

“I want you like this.”  
  
I, Wolfgang, do not need to speak these words, just as I, Kala, do not have to answer, _I have never done this before_. We know both these truths between us, as well as others.  
  
I, Kala, place my hands on his waist, unable to resist the urge to dig my nails just slightly into his pale skin, to score fine, red lines parallel to his spine, across his ribs where they show. It’s a powerful feeling, like I can toss him this way or that, or hold him here, despite his strength. Beneath me, I can also feel how I, Wolfgang, press back into the sharp, steadying touch, how I want _more_ —Kala’s teeth at my neck, her weight pressing me down against the crumpled sheets, covering me, filling me—the way I have taken so many dark-eyed brunettes this past year, the way in moments I can feel Kala take Rajan or Rajan take _me_ , the me that is always present at the edges of Kala.  
  
I, Kala, pull back from our kiss—and, oh. Just look at him. Blonde and doe-eyed, fixing me with the disbelieving, wondering look that first made me love him. (Back when I was certain I did not want to love him.) He stares at me like he’s not sure that I’m really here, like he wants to grasp me to find out but knows he’ll get hurt if he does—so he’s all eyes. The first time I saw him, I thought the look was boyish not because it made him seem young but because he wore it with the familiarity of many, many years, like something he had taken up in boyhood. It was a look that said _I’m not sure you’re real_ and had nothing to do with my body being eight thousand kilometers away in Mumbai.  
  
I want to make him see me differently now. I want to distract him, to wreck his calm, to make him loose and wild.  
  
“Let me help you,” Nomi says. She’s kneeling behind me on the bed. I watch Wolfgang meet her eyes over my shoulder; he smiles slightly.  
  
So I tell her, “Show me,” and I tell Wolfgang with teeth at his neck, words without words, _yes, turn over, let me…_ Settling behind him, I stroke tentative fingers down the cleft of his ass.  
  
“Like this.” Nomi’s hand guides me, her other arm wrapped around my waist, her soft thighs pressing against mine. My fingers are also her fingers—expert, reaching, slick with the cool, greasy lubricant Wolfgang has pulled from the folds of the sheets with her hand. We tease around his hole and dip in a dripping finger, feeling for his response, the twitch of tightening muscle there, a sharp breath.  
   
I would stop if I thought I might hurt him, but I, Nomi, move with confidence, and Wolfgang’s anticipation is as palpable around us as our _want_. We push a finger in again and soon add another, stretching him while he gasps and flushes. He wants _more_ , he wants _faster_ already, but Kala lets me guide her; there is an edge in Kala that wants to push him to _his_ edges, and I—I like to take my time. We twist our fingers just so to find that spot that makes him shudder and curse. “Oh, fuck, _fuck_.”  
  
Her profusion of black curls smell sweet; already, they are everywhere, brushing against my face and tickling my nose. I barely have to lean forward to press my face against them fully, to inhale her particular smell, part citrus conditioner, part fabric softener, part _her_. She leans back against me, turning her head toward mine, and I can feel the giddiness of her smile.  
  
I run my hand down her arm, pull the tie from her wrist. Gather her curls—my fingers, dipping below the surface of water, running through silk—and twist them atop her head. “There.” It’s worth it, to be able to kiss the slope of her shoulder.  
  
“Am I—?” she asks.  
  
“Just like that,” I say, “You’re doing perfect—”  
  
Wolfgang squirms against our touch, practically fucking himself on our fingers. “Fuck, I’m ready, I’m ready—”  
  
Kala draws back. “Here,” I murmur. I pick up the strappy, leather harness from the bed and slide it around her hips, adjusting the buckles until it’s snug and she’s wriggling slightly in my grasp, testing the feel of it, its tightness. I recognize that moment before the toy changes in her mind from a tool, an appendage, to an extension of herself.  
  
I, Wolfgang, shudder as fingers wander and slip down to pet against my, Kala’s, clit; I, Kala, also gasp, arching back against Nomi, pulling Wolfgang’s hips more tightly to me, so I can grind against him, rutting the cock—now _my_ cock, thick, velvety Vixskin—against the cleft of his ass.  
  
“Touch yourself,” we tell him.  
  
“Or let me,” I, Lito, suggest, dropping chest to sheets, stoking my hands down Wolfgang’s trembling thighs. His blonde hair at his temples is dark with sweat, and he leans his head back to gasp into Kala’s escaping curls, looking down at me with hooded eyes, gaze unfocused with pleasure. I marvel yet again at the awakening that made me a multitude, that allows me to swallow and suck his heavy cock at the same time as I suck a red bruise on the sweat sheen of his throat.  
  
“Oh fuck,” I, Wolfgang, say. I’m surrounded, and as usual, that sensation alone almost overcomes me. Sometimes, like this, I think about Felix, how unfair it is that this experience should be mine and not his, because he would love this, unabashed and purring—while for me, being the focus of their attention always comes cut with a crisp undercurrent of fear. But fear and regret are hard to hold onto as Lito works my cock, his broad hands wrapped around the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his stubble brushing there, that particular kind of tickling pleasure just shy of pain.  
  
I, Nomi, help Kala take herself in hand, help her press the tip of her cock against his entrance.  
  
“Like this?” she breathes.  
  
“Yeah, just like that.”  
  
I, Kala, draw a long breath and push forward, into him. His response is immediate.  
  
“More,” I, Wolfgang say, arching back against her as she buries herself deep inside me. I breathe carefully, in my nose, out my mouth. They’ve made me so loose, I’m ready for the length of her—but it has been a long time, and there is a tenderness in me, open for her, that isn’t about the girth of her cock. When Lito interlaces his fingers with mine, I hold tight.  
  
Kala’s lips press against my ear, soft for a moment before she bites me, murmuring, “ _Liebling_ , I’ve got you.”  
  
I turn my head so she can kiss the corner of my mouth. I can barely think as she fucks deeper into me, as Lito licks the length of my cock, as Nomi’s fingers circle Kala’s nipples. Surrounded. I lean back against Kala’s chest, letting her take some of my weight—her and Nomi, solid, holding me—and put my free hand in Lito’s hair, hold onto Lito’s hand, tight, tight. “I know,” I say.  
  
I, Kala, lick my lips, can’t resist biting the nape of his neck now, feeling him shudder. “I’m going to fuck you.” I can feel his grin—half-feral, a challenge.  
  
“Do it.”  
  
Then I, Lito, swallow him till he’s full against the back of my throat, and he loses all poise in a ragged gasp. The novelty will never wear off for me, undoing a man in precisely this way.  
  
“Lito,” I, Wolfgang, say, voice wavering despite my effort. “Lito, fuck. If you keep doing that, I’m going to—”  
  
He eases off and grins up at us, wiping his mouth with the back of one large hand. “You like that, _miel?”_  
  
I can’t answer, I am incoherent, Kala is fucking me, finally moving—a slow slide at first and then harder. I try to meet her thrusts, but then it’s too much, and it’s all I can do to stay upright and take it, her hands and Nomi’s tight on my hips.  
  
Lito watches me, chin propped on my thigh; I meet his dark eyes and feel further stripped.  
  
“You like that?” Kala echoes, slamming into me.  
  
“Yes,” I grit out, “Fuck.”  
  
My face must give me away, some twitch or tell obvious to such a habile actor, because Lito shifts and swallows my cock again. Kala fucks the spot that brings me, suddenly, from close to coming apart—a white out like a blizzard, like the first time using smack, like the collapse of a star. Kala slows, pulls out. Her climax, as Nomi’s fingers slip beneath the harness strap to stroke her clit, rolls through my body like an aftershock.  
  
We slump onto the bed, panting.  
  
When I can move again, I prop myself up on one elbow and grin down at Kala. “Did you like that?”  
  
She bites her lip. “Yes.”  
  
“But?”  
  
I, Kala, let myself smile, and I shake my head.  
  
“Then what?” He’s humoring me. I’ve succeeded in more than one aim—fucking him loose to the point of easy smiles, fucking the shadows out of his eyes. If I had my way, he would look like this always.  
  
“I think we’re going to do this all the time.”  
  
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are we?”  
  
“Mmmhmm.” I nod and reach down to wrap my hands around my cock, which is listing now against my thigh. I squeezed it experimentally; it’s springy and smooth, lovely to touch. I like it. He follows the motion with heavy-lidded eyes. He cannot hide his interest from me. “And next time,” I tell him, “I’m going to—how do you say—eat you out.”  
  
I, Wolfgang, collapse on top of her, burying my face against her neck, laughing. She hits me on the arm.  
  
“What’s so funny about that, hm?”  
  
“Nothing, I—” I try to catch my breath, but her stern tone is belied by the way her fingers snake up to dig into my sides where we are all dangerously ticklish.  
  
We constellate and become a tangle of limbs again, I, Nomi, smoothing his arms out above his head and pinning his wrists, Lito on the other side of him, broad hands on his hips.  
  
He gasps and laughs harder, squirming against us, barely a protest, no real fight.  
  
“You’re outnumbered, my friend,” Lito says.  
  
“Are you laughing at me, hm?” I, Kala, tease again, tickling him harder.  
  
“No,” he gasps, “I’m just—happy.”  
  
“For the record,” I, Lito, say, looking across at Kala.  
  
“Mm?” She doesn’t lift her eyes from Wolfgang; her hands have stilled on his chest, and she’s giving him this look like she's hungry to memorize his every expression, like she wants to map his body completely, before he disappears. He’s catching his breath, glancing between the three of us, bemused.  
  
“This next time you’re describing…”  
  
I, Nomi, squeeze Wolfgang’s fingers where they’re wrapped in mine. Lito and I exchange a smile. “…We’d also be happy to help.”

 

 


End file.
